


The One Real Thing

by unintelligiblescreaming



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Genocide Route, Gen, Mute Frisk, Narrator Chara, Neutral Route, Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, Not Shippy, Pacifist Route, Sharing a Body, Soft Chara, Temporary Character Death, basically a different take on the no mercy route, multiple runs, resetting, sorta - Freeform, the angst possibilities of the neutral route are not nearly well enough explored
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unintelligiblescreaming/pseuds/unintelligiblescreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Oh, huh, that was actually pretty good,</em> says the voice.</p><p><em>Thanks,</em> Frisk thinks sarcastically.<br/> <br/><em>No, seriously. I think I should take offense and you can take defense. I’m awful at dodging, I always have this instinct to, like, punch the bullets or something, and then I just end up hurting myself and it’s embarrassing for everyone involved. We can be a team.</em></p><p>--<br/>Frisk has a voice in their head, a promise to keep, and a soul full of determination. But Chara is hiding something, the promise involves doing what all six fallen humans have failed to do, and their soul is calling up the ghosts of the other kids that fell into the Underground before them. It's not looking like an easy ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Golden Light

 

The golden light has appeared only three times before in Frisk’s life.  
  
The first was a day like any other: a day spent in the city library, alone among the stacks, surrounded by silence. They were supposed to be doing homework, but instead they poked around corners, dashed into the employee-only back room, investigated half-opened crates and crawled into small secret spaces. They never saw the mouse, but they heard it squeak sometimes, when no one else was there.  
  
And then, hovering between the shelves, they saw it. A yellow, shimmering point of light, there but also _not_ there, as if it wasn’t as real as everything around it. (Later, it occurred to them that maybe the light was the one real thing, and everything else wasn’t real enough.)  
  
Awed, they reached out to touch it.  
  
Surrounded by the quiet stacks, Frisk was filled with determination. The feeling spread throughout their body, and they could the bright red pulse of your heart grounding them. There was another feeling, in the corner of their head, as if they could just insert a thought _just right_ and…  
  
FILE SAVED  
  
The words flashed against the backs of their eyelids, and then they were gone. The light still hovered in the air. They stared at it silently, and then shrugged and walked away.  
  
A few minutes later, their parents called and said they’d be there in an hour. They figured that meant at least an hour and a half, probably two, so they told them they’d just take the bus.  
  
When they stepped out into the blinding sunlight, they didn’t even see the car.  
  
In that fraction of a second after they felt their bones crunch and rip apart, they expected to see their life flash before their eyes like people say in movies, but instead they just saw endless darkness. In the center, a single red heart. They watched it shatter.  
  
And then they were in the library.  
  
To their right, a bookshelf. In front of them, a haphazard pile of crates. Below, threadbare floor carpeting. Above, the golden light.  
  
This time, they waited a moment longer before they stepped into the street, and they felt the rush of the wind as the car barreled past, accompanied by honks and indignant cries from passerby.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
They whirled around. It was some kid the same age as Frisk; they seemed vaguely familiar, but they didn’t know from where. “You look kind of freaked out!” the kid continued.  
  
**I’m fine,** they signed back without thinking. The kid just looked nervous and confused, and they remembered that the other kid probably wouldn’t know ASL, so Frisk nodded. They looked relieved and wandered away.  
  
When they crossed to the side of the street with the bus stop, another point of light was waiting. They embraced it without question.  
  
That was the second time they have ever seen that unworldly light. The third time was at the very top of Mt. Ebott, as they stood looking into the dark pit below. They had a terrible feeling in your gut—they knew, somehow, that something bad was about to happen—so when they saw the light, they did what came naturally. They ran forward to touch it.  
  
Their shoe caught on a vine, and they tumbled forward. Desperately, they reached out one last time, brushing their fingers through the save point, drawing on all the determination they had.  
  
And now?  
  
Now Frisk is standing far below, in the heart of the mountain. Their heart beats in their ears and their breaths came hard and fast. Behind them, they hear a sound, and they stumble as they turn around.  
  
It’s a golden flower. With a bright, welcoming smile.  
  
“Howdy!” it says happily. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower!”

 

 

Toriel saves them, and they wish they could be happy, but they just want to go home. They reach for their save file, but it only takes them to the moment of their fall, the light disappearing far above.

 

 

Toriel tells them to stay where they are, to stay safe. Maybe they should have listened, but, well, they’ve never been very good at avoiding trouble.  
  
Monsters attack. Frisk knows they should be more surprised about the whole monsters-are-real thing, but it’s hard to be surprised at anything after almost being murdered by a talking flower and then saved by a kind goat lady who they really want to call “mom” for some reason.  
  
(There’s another reason. It’s that all of this resonates deep in their bones. It feels like they can’t stop this, that this will always happen, that they were meant to do this, that they’ve done this before. But that’s even more ridiculous than the talking flower, so they ignore it.)  
  
They notice that when they get attacked, they have this surreal sense of both the present, physical reality, but also of something else. When Whimsun attacks them—or at least, hovers anxiously near them in a half-heartedly threatening manner—they blink hard, and they can actually see a red heart imprinted on the back of their eyelids. They can even see the yellowish glow that says that Whimsun doesn’t really want to fight. There’s a heartbeat where their hands twitch and the instinct to _FIGHT_ almost takes over. But then they remember, and step back, raising their hands to show they’re unarmed. Whimsun hesitates, and then flutters away, relieved.  
  
They assume that all the monsters are going to be like that, so when Froggit jumps at them, them instinctively cower and try to show an unwillingness to fight him. It doesn’t work.  
  
When the vicious white flies zoom forward, cutting across their limbs and drawing blood, Frisk is so startled at not only the physical pain but the sudden sharp ache in their chest that they don’t even—  
  
_Move already!_ says a voice in their head, exasperated.  
  
They freeze. Two more darts of pain shoot through them. They're too startled to care.  
  
The voice sounds _just like_ Frisk, like any other part of their thoughts, but with strange, hard inflections that don’t sound like them at all. It comes with a foreign presence in the back of their head, too, like there’s something else there that wants itself to be known.  
  
By the time they process that, Froggit is holding himself back warily, waiting for Frisk’s next move.  
  
_Well, what are you waiting for?_ the voice asks, annoyed. _Fight back already. I’ll even do it for you, if you like._  
  
With that, the pressure in their mind increases. Somehow it seems almost questioning, like it’s waiting for permission.  
  
_But I don’t want to hurt him,_ they think.  
  
There’s a drawn-out sigh. _Look, I’ve been down this route before, okay? The niceness thing didn’t work out for the others, even the ones who could SAVE with kindness or integrity, and it won’t work for you. If you don’t fight back, you won’t get any EXP, and then you won’t get any LOVE, and then you’ll just keep dying easily, over and over again, and eventually you’ll give up just like the others. From poking around in your head I can already tell that you’re absolute crap at fighting, so just… give me the reins for a few minutes, alright?_  
  
Frisk doesn’t want to listen, but the voice is being honest, they can hear the truth ringing through their skull. They nod hesitantly.  
  
The pressure in their mind disappears and their limbs move without their permission. They reach down swiftly and pick up a sturdy stick lying by the side of the path and swing down, towards Froggit.  
  
They hear the thud and Frisk wants to shut their eyes—they don’t want to see anyone get hurt—so they grab that bit of autonomy back and slam down their eyelids.  
  
_What are you doing, we have to dodge!_ the voice hisses. _Oh my God, Frisk, you have to move out of the way of the bullets before—_  
  
They flinch and step out of the way of the first volley, ducking and weaving to avoid getting hit _._  
  
Oh, huh, that was actually pretty good, says the voice. __  
  
Thanks, Frisk thinks sarcastically. __  
  
No, seriously. I think I should take offense and you can take defense. I’m awful at dodging, I always have this instinct to, like, punch the bullets or something, and then I just end up hurting myself and it’s embarrassing for everyone involved. We can be a team.  
  
They hesitate. They’re not sure they want to be a team if it involves hurting people, but…  
  
Then they lose their train of thought because they realize that Froggit is hanging back, and when they shut their eyes there’s that yellow glow, the one that means the monster doesn’t want to fight them anymore. Automatically, they take a step back and smile reassuringly at Froggit.  
  
He hops away. Frisk lets out a breath, relieved.  
  
_You can’t just keep letting them go forever,_ the voice reminds them.

 

 

There’s this strange vegetable monster that won’t listen, no matter that Frisk refuses the voice’s offer to fight for them and tries to talk with the monster instead, and they’re getting weaker and weaker and it _hurts_ and they’re just so _frustrated,_ and then they give in.  
  
The voice takes hold of Frisk’s body and slashes at the vegetable monster. It dissolves into dust, scattering on their shoes. They jump back, stomach churning.  
  
_It gets easier,_ says the voice. _It was hard for the others on their first runs, too._

 

 

Toriel’s house is so warm and so safe that they want to stay there forever. When they sink down onto the bed, they don’t ever want to get up. There’s a sense of kindness and compassion that hangs around her, and they don’t want to leave.  
  
They dream. There’s a bed of golden flowers, and they have a friend who is always trailing after them and asking if they’re alright every time they trip and scrape their knees. He scrapes his knees too, and in the dream they’re telling him to _stop crying, just stop, it’s so annoying—_  
  
When they wake up, there’s a slice of pie waiting and someone has turned off the lights. They slip out into the hallway (it’s because they want to explore, they tell themself, not because they don’t want to be alone in the dark, definitely not that, they’re far too determined to be frightened of the dark) and check out their host’s room.  
  
They realize they’re not hungry, not exactly, but they figure they can’t be sure when they’re going to get another meal, so they reach for the pie slice they’ve stuffed in their pocket. They’re about to take a bite, but for the first time in several hours the voice speaks up. _No, don’t._  
  
They pause. _Why not?_  
  
_Toriel’s cooking is filled with really intense magic. You’ll need it for when you’re up against the enemy you can’t beat._  
  
That doesn’t sound good to Frisk at all. _What enemy?_  
  
_Sooner or later you’ll go up against a monster that keeps killing you, over and over again. You’ll load your SAVE and try to beat them, but you’ll just keep dying, and then you’ll give up. They always do. Even the one who could SAVE with perseverance gave up when they couldn’t beat Gerson. The one who had the powers of kindness let me do all the attacking and dodging, I had to use up all my energy just to take over and stop them from literally healing their enemies with their stupid frying pan, but halfway through Hotland they just sort of gave up on kindness existing in the world—or however weirdo kindness power works—and couldn’t load their SAVE anymore, and they stayed dead._  
  
Coldness spreads through their body. They think of the golden light and the pain of the car crash, and how only their determination to continue living allowed them to return.  
  
The voice is still talking. _So I know that eventually you’ll go up against an obstacle you can’t beat and then you’ll lose your determination, and then I’ll wake up in the mind of the next fallen human. But if you keep a piece of Toriel’s cooking, then it’ll heal you during a battle and maybe you’ll last long enough to make it to the surface._  
  
_You keep mentioning other humans,_ they think. _So… they could SAVE too? Did they see the golden light? No one else I know can see the light._  
  
_Most humans up above don’t even see the entrance to Mount Ebott. It’s concealed from them because their souls aren’t strong enough. Human souls are a muted, dull gray._  
  
Frisk remembers the bright red heart. _But my soul is red._  
  
_That’s because you’re different. There are seven different key powers of the soul, and if you’re a mage—if you have one of those powers—you can see Mount Ebott. Your soul power is determination._  
  
They hug themselves, shivering a little. _And the others who fell down the mountain, they all lost hope, and couldn’t load their SAVE anymore…_ They shake their head adamantly. _That won’t happen to me. I’m too determined._  
  
Frisk continues to wander through the house. They notice the 201X calendar on the wall and wonder why it’s so dusty—it’s still 201X, right?  
  
_No it’s not,_ says the voice sharply.  
  
Frisk blinks. _Yes it is._  
  
_It’s not,_ insists the voice. _201X was years and years ago._

They shrug and keep walking, sneaking quietly past Toriel in the living room (she’s reading peacefully and you don’t want to disturb her). They’re sure the voice is mistaken; maybe it has an incorrect perception of time since it’s been trapped underground for so long.  
  
_I’m not wrong, and I’m not an “it,” either. My name’s Chara, I use they/them pronouns like you do, and—is that chocolate?_  
  
Frisk pauses in the act of closing the refrigerator door. _I’m not a fan of chocolate,_ they admit.  
  
The voice sighs dramatically. _I’ll forgive you… this time._  
  


 

Chara goes quiet when Frisk approaches Toriel to ask when they can go home. When the conversation is done, Chara speaks up only to say that the way out of the ruins is down the stairs and through the hallway Toriel doesn’t want them to walk down.

 

 

When Toriel stands in the way of the door out of the Ruins with fire in her hands, Chara still says nothing. Instead of words, Frisk just feels aching sorrow seeping through their bones.  
  
**I don’t want to fight,** they sign frantically.  
  
Toriel’s expression hardens. She looks away.  
  
They choose to _FIGHT,_ brandishing their stick nervously and expecting Chara to jump in. There’s no response. Frisk stares at Toriel, eyes trembling with tears, and lowers their weapon.  
  
Walls of fire sweep past them. They try to dodge, but their vision is blurry and they’re shaking with silent sobs. Fire burns their skin, the pain searing all the way to their soul.  
  
They throw the stick to the side and spread their hands. **I just want to go home,** they sign. **Why won’t you look me in the eye?**  
  
This time Toriel’s flames dodge and weave so that they don’t go near them. When it comes their turn to attack, they don’t lift a hand.  
  
She won’t let them near the door, but she won’t hurt them either. They take a deep breath and stay where they are, staring her down, willing her to see that they won’t be chased away. _I’m not like the other fallen humans,_ they decide fiercely. _This isn’t my home, and I’m not backing down._  
  
Toriel’s brows crease. Frisk stays where they are.  
  
Her hands begin to shake. Frisk’s feet remain planted to the ground.  
  
Her mouth trembles. Frisk stares at her, unmoving.  
  
Finally, finally, she allows her flames to fizzle out.  
  
“My child,” she whispers. “Please… go back upstairs.”  
  
**I won’t,** they answer.  
  
“Please. You’ll be safe here.”  
  
**I don’t want to be safe. I want to go home.**  
  
“This _is_ your home. If you go out there, you will get hurt. They will try to take your soul. Asgore has already felled six children—he will stop at nothing for the seventh.”  
  
The name echoes off the walls, sending chills straight to the marrow of their bones. But still they do not hesitate to sign, **I have no choice. I have to keep going.**  
  
She looks at them for a long moment and then nods slowly, sadly. “I understand.” She steps away from the door. “This door will take you out of the ruins. But if you leave… please, I must ask that you do not return.”  
  
They nod.  
  
Toriel walks around them and pauses at the door to the hallway. “Be safe, my child,” she says softly. And then she’s gone.  
  
Frisk cranes their neck, examining the tall iron door covered in runes. They trail a hand over a twisting, purple pictogram.  
  
_It’s the Delta Rune,_ says Chara suddenly.  
  
They jump, startled. _What?_  
  
_Just a stupid picture for a stupid story that doesn’t mean anything,_ the voice says bitterly. _Look, you have to go back. To your last SAVE, in front of Toriel’s house._  
  
Frisk frowns. The last thing they want to do is face Toriel like that again.  
__  
You have to kill her, alright? She’s a boss monster. You need her soul to get past the barrier to the surface.  
  
Their eyes go wide. _What? No!_  
  
You don’t have a choice.  
  
I can’t, they think desperately, tugging at their hair. _No, I don’t—are there other boss monsters?_  
  
Yeah, but he’s too hard to kill. You don’t have the skills to do it now, and you’d give up long before you’d get good enough to strike him down. And I won’t be able to help. I can’t ever bring myself to attack him.  
  
They raise an eyebrow. _But you’ve got the stomach to fight Toriel? Really? You’d fight Goatmom?_  
  
Don’t call her that, Chara snaps. Then their voice softens. _But, yeah. You’re right, I guess. I was kind of hoping you’d fight her for me. I really, really can’t._  
  
This other boss monster, would he try to hurt me, or would he be like Toriel?  
  
No, admits Chara. _He’ll try to kill you._  
  
Then we’ll make a deal, Frisk decides. _When we get to this boss monster, if you still can’t fight him, I’ll do it for you._  
  
Chara scoffs. _Really? You won’t give up on loading your SAVE? Not ever? Even after he’s stabbed through your chest for the hundredth and sixty-third time? That’s how many times Asgore killed the kid whose soul was filled with justice before they decided not to fight back anymore._  
  
Asgore? they ask in alarm. _That’s the boss monster I have to kill?_  
  
If you let Mom go? Yes.  
  
Frisk thinks of the awful queasiness they felt when the vegetable monster’s dust fell to the ground, the wrenching in their gut at the knowledge that they killed someone and that someone won’t ever come back. They think about Chara, telling them with complete certainty that killing would get easier, eventually, and the flippant way they asked Frisk why they weren’t fighting back. They think about what it would take for someone like Chara, who speaks so casually about killing, to be unable to harm a monster even though refusing to fight would mean their death. They think about a bodiless voice, condemned to watch helplessly as human after human lives and fights and dies, trying to get to the surface, over and over again. They think about trying to keep those humans alive, until they refuse to keep on surviving, and then becoming trapped once again. __  
  
I’ll kill him so you don’t have to. And I won’t give up, Frisk announces. __  
  
Chara doesn’t say anything, but they seem unconvinced. Frisk isn’t sure how they know that, since it’s not like Chara has body language or anything, but they just sort of exude an aura of dubiousness.  
  
Frisk tries for a smile. _I’m not like the others. I have determination, remember?_  
  
With that, they push open the door and step through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsyk, some of the dialogue is altered slightly so that it reads better in text format.


	2. The Orange Soul

When Frisk opens the door out of the ruins, they expect… something. And yes, there’s a dim rectangle of light that must be the door, but it’s so far away, and everything else is infinite darkness.   
  
_Careful,_ warns Chara. _This is usually where Flowey confronts the ones that make it this far._  
  
They stiffen. God, the last thing they want is to deal with that—  
  
An awful high-pitched chuckling fills the air as Flowey pops into existence. His sickeningly yellow, perfectly symmetrical petals are completely illuminated despite the lack of any light source whatsoever. “Well, howdy there!”  
  
They try to discreetly look around them for anything that could be possibly used as a weapon. Maybe they shouldn’t have thrown away their stick earlier… not like it would be much use against him anyways. _What kind of monster even is he?_ they ask.  
  
 _Not a monster,_ Chara says. _Not anything._  
  
Flowey grins and leans forward. “You’re different, aren’t you?” he says. “You can SAVE.  That’s odd. I haven’t met anyone else who could do that!”  
  
 _He says that to everyone who falls down here,_ says Chara scornfully.  
  
He’s saying something else, but they lose track of it. They’re focused on a twisting pinpoint of light that appears just beyond where he’s emerged from the ground. A SAVE point.   
  
They snap back to attention when his grin turns monstrous. “—they had families, did you ever think of that? Friends. And you killed them!”  
  
 _Don’t listen. He’s just scared of you and he’s trying to make you lose your determination._  
  
 _Scared of me?_ Frisk asks incredulously.  
  
 _Yes, you! You’re the only one in the entire Underground who can possibly hope to oppose him. He’s unstoppable against anyone else.  
  
_ Flowey ends his little speech with a horrible shrieking laugh. Frisk claps their hands over their ears, and when they open their eyes he’s disappeared into the earth without a trace.  
  
They hurry forward to the SAVE point, reaching up to it, allowing the sight of the golden light burning in the darkness to fill them with determination. Then they step through the doorway.  
  
Their first impression: bright. Very bright.  
  
Their second impression: cold. Very, very cold! They yelp and wrap their arms around themselves. _A warning would have been nice!  
  
Oh shut up, _grumbles the voice in their head.  
  
Their third impression: eerie. Very much so.  
  
They squint at a nearby boulder. They’re pretty sure that’s a camera swiveling to focus in their direction. Other than that, the place is deserted—despite the inescapable feeling of being watched. _  
  
Can you see anyone?_ they ask nervously. _  
  
I’m looking out of your eyes, I’m not seeing anything you’re not, dumbass,_ snaps Chara.  
  
Frisk fake-pouts. _That’s a rather rude way to talk to someone carrying you around inside their brain.  
  
Yeah, well, that’s no way to talk to your elders, either, _they snark back. _I’ve been here since 201X. You just showed up.  
  
It’s 201X right now.  
  
No it’s not, _they respond flatly.  
  
Frisk isn’t sure about a lot of things in the Underground, but they are 100% sure that it is still the same year. They want to keep arguing the point, but they’re more occupied with moving quickly along the icy path, both to evade any invisible watchers and to stave off the insidious chill.  
  
A twig snaps behind them. They whirl around. Nothing.  
  
Forty more paces and they hear footsteps behind them. They turn, but once again, there’s only trees and snow.   
  
Ten more feet and—  
  
“ **H u m a n .  D o n ‘ t   y o u   k n o w   h o w   t o   g r e e t   a   n e w   p a l ?   T u r n   a r o u n d   a n d   s h a k e   m y   h a n d .** ”  
  
Their heart is thumping against their ribcage and their rapid breaths are crystallizing in the frigid air. Pulse pounding in their eyes, they force themselves to turn on a heel and gingerly reach out a hand.  
  
There’s an obnoxiously loud fart sound. A shocked pause, and then Chara begins to cackle wildly. Frisk finds it significantly less amusing.  
  
It’s a short skeleton in a beat-up blue hoodie with a goofy grin and, somehow, exhaustion lines in the bone underneath his eye sockets. “The old whoopee-cushion-in-the-hand trick,” he chuckles, signing along with his words as he speaks. Frisk wonders suspiciously how he knew to do that. “It’s _always_ funny. Anyways, you’re a human, right?” Another laugh, this time with a shake of the head. “That’s hilarious. I’m Sans, Sans the skeleton. I’m actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now, but… y’know… I don’t really care about capturing anybody.”  
  
 _Don’t trust him,_ orders Chara. _That voice he had before he went all soft on you? I don’t like that voice. Even if the whoopee cushion thing was pretty funny._  
  
“Now my brother Papyrus, he’s a human-hunting fanatic! Hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.”  
  
Frisk claps a hand over their mouth and glances over their shoulder. There’s a taller, thinner skeleton with a bright red scarf heading purposefully in their direction.  
  
“I’ve got an idea,” says Sans. “Go through this gate.”  
  
They walk through the gate and look back at him.  
  
“Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.”  
  
They examine it dubiously. It… does appear to be shaped in an extraordinarily convenient manner. They step behind it and align their profile with the lampshade.   
  
_What the fuck?_  
  
 _Don’t swear,_ Frisk tells Chara firmly.  
  
The taller skeleton has marched over, and the two of them are having one of those confrontational sibling conversations that have clearly happened ten thousand times before and aren’t going to be stopping anytime soon. When the station by the side of the path comes up, they examines it dubiously. _Does that look like a hotdog stall to you?_  
  
 _I haven’t seen a hotdog in forever, but yeah, it does smell like hot foods have been consumed in this area,_ says Chara.  
  
Frisk turns their attention back to the skeleton brothers, wondering how Papyrus manages to make his scarf/cape/thingy flow in the breeze despite the absence of any wind whatsoever.  
  
“Hmm,” Sans muses. “Maybe this lamp will help you.”  
  
Frisk flinches.   
  
“Sans! You lazybones! You are not helping! All you do is sit and boondoggle!”  
  
 _What’s “boondoggle” mean?_ they ask.  
  
 _No idea,_ admits Chara.  
  
Finally Papyrus marches off and Frisk comes out from behind the conveniently-shaped lamp. **Thanks,** they sign quickly, and scurry away as fast as possible.  
  
“Hey, wait,” calls Sans. “Look, my brother, he’s never seen a human before. Meeting you might brighten up his day. Don’t worry, he’s not dangerous. Even if he tries to be.”  
  
 _I think I’ll be the judge of that,_ scoffs Chara.  
  
Frisk just sort of awkwardly shrugs and hurries along the path.  
  
 _Ooh, a box!_ says Chara a moment later. _I love boxes, they're so cool!_  
  
Frisk examines the sign. It’s written in a runic language they can’t read. _Okay, so the cool thing about boxes is that you can drop stuff in there and it’ll show up in other boxes too, because they’re all magically connected,_ Chara explains. _Like right here, you should probably drop off Toriel’s pie and put on the Tough Glove. It’s not the best weapon, but since you dropped into the Underground with literally nothing useful whatsoever, it’s a definite improvement._ Chara sighs in their signature over-the-top manner. _Seriously, though, even the kid with a patient soul showed up with a cute ribbon and a toy knife. All you had was, like, a single bandaid._  
  
 _It was patterned,_ Frisk defends. _Patterned bandaids are the best._

 

 

They’re ambushed by a moody teenaged Ice Cap, and they try to compliment its hat but it doesn’t seem to be working, so after their soul takes a few hits they let Chara take over and turn the Ice Cap to dust. The same thing happens with a Snowdrake. They feel bad, since it seems like the monsters are only teenagers, but it was self-defense. They couldn’t see any other way.  
  
When it comes to the dogs, however, they just can’t do it. They love dogs! Dogs are great! Usually Chara would be going on about how they’re more powerful enemies and that means they get more EXP and that means less dying over and over again, but in this case the disembodied voice agrees fully. Petting dogs is fun! Even when the Dogaressa’s axe slams right through their chest and through the last bit of their soul, they still eke out the determination to try again until they get Dogamy and Dogaressa to think they’re just a weird puppy.

 

 

Eventually they meet Sans and Papyrus again. They know that the brothers are having more friendly sibling arguments that revolve around puzzles, skeleton puns, and capturing “the human,” but they don’t hear a large portion of the conversation because it’s drowned out by the sound of Chara repeating _I can’t believe this is happening to me right now_ over and over again.   
  
_It was funny the first time. It was less funny the seventy-second time,_ Frisk tells them.  
  
 _Oh shut up, I’m hilarious._  
  
They also meet Gyftrot. They see immediately that it’s struggling underneath the weight of its ridiculous Christmas decorations, and they know what it’s like to be bullied mercilessly by the local teens, so they gently remove the heavier ornaments and give Gyftrot an encouraging smile. They’re quite pleased with the whole situation—like with the dogs of the Royal Guard, they actually solved the problem without violence! It’s a good feeling.

 

 

_Snowdin,_ says Chara wistfully. _It’s really grown. The last time I was with a human, there were only a few houses and a shop. Now it’s got a Librarby, a restaurant… it’s even an outpost of the Royal Guard, which means that it’ll get plenty of business. Ooh, ooh, an inn! Is it like a hotel? Hotels are cool, but I don’t think we have any in the Underground. Let’s check it out!_  
  
Frisk doesn’t really have the same opinion as far as hotels go, but they’re still completely freezing even with the Manly Bandanna wrapped around their head, so they figure it’s a good excuse to warm up. The receptionist lets them stay even though they don’t have enough gold, and they fall asleep the moment they hit the blankets.  
  
In their dream, they have the Tough Glove and the Manly Bandanna, and their clothes whip around them as they face down the Royal Guard. But it’s not the same Royal Guard—their faces are different. They’re angry. The cold pierces their skin, and when they look down they realize that their skin is darker than usual. Their clothes are different, too.  
  
But their moment of distraction is their undoing, and all at once, weapons rain down from every side. There’s no room to dodge, no time to fight back. As their soul—not red, but fiery orange—shatters, they feel a bone-deep despair and a wrenching, gut-twisting _fear_. And then, only darkness.  
  
Frisk wakes up all at once, shaking, and calms down by listening to the snoring from the next room.  
  
 _Sorry,_ whispers Chara. _That was my dream._  
  
 _You were dreaming about another fallen human’s death,_ Frisk realizes. _Which…?_  
  
 _Bravery. They became too afraid that there was no way to beat the entire force of the Guard all at once, and they couldn’t load their SAVE anymore._  
  
After hearing that, Frisk jumps up and dashes outside, ignoring the receptionist’s concerned question, and runs into the snow.  
  
They remember the clearing from the dream, near one of the puzzles. They push through the ever-higher snowdrifts (how it can snow inside a cave, they’re not sure) and keep running until they find the closed-off hollow where the orange soul met their final death.  
  
In their mind’s eye, there is growling and gnashing and slamming weapons. But the clearing is empty and calm. The only movement is the snow falling slowly. They stay there, still, for a long moment, and then start to turn away.  
  
And then:  
  
The snow begins to whirl upward in a spiral, and a figure forms out of the fog and shadow. A child, maybe a year younger than them, with dark skin and long black hair and the same glove and bandanna that Frisk is wearing. Their form is grayish, unreal, like an illusion more than a physical shape, but in the center of their chest, a faint orange light pulses.  
  
“Oh,” they say. Their voice echoes strangely. “Another one, huh?”  
  
Frisk nods uncertainly. **Are you a ghost?** they ask. They’ve met Napstablook, and he was pretty cool, but he didn’t look anything like the kid standing before them now.  
  
“I’m a soul remnant. They had a special container they used to keep my soul for the king, but they couldn’t bottle me up fast enough, so a bit of me is still hovering here, where I died.” The kid shuffles their feet a little. “This is the first time I’ve been called up like this. I mostly don’t have a body at all. I don’t think my soul was very strong, you see, and that’s why I wasn’t brave enough to keep going. You’re stronger than me, I think—I’ve felt your soul tugging at me all day.”  
  
 **Does that hurt? I didn't mean for it to hurt,** signs Frisk.  
  
The kid shakes their head. “Nope. Just kind of tingly. Is Chara helping you too, or was that just me going crazy?”  
  
 **They’re in my head and sometimes they fight for me. I dodge,** Frisk answers. **Was it like that for you?**  
  
They nod. “Sort of. I was always pretty good at fighting, so I did most of it when I was still in the Ruins, but eventually they got bored and helped out with some of the monsters. I was stupid about it, really. Went around boasting about how many kills I’d made. That tipped them off that there was a human around real quick and next thing I knew I was facing down the entirety of the Royal Guard. The only way to change that was to go back and do less boasting, but my SAVE point was too recent. Chara said there was some other last-resort power I could use, a RESET, but I never figured out how that was supposed to work. And, well… you can guess the rest of the story.”  
  
 _Can I…?_ Chara asks.   
  
_Sure._ Frisk lets them take control, and their hands move into jerky sign language. _This ASL thing is hard,_ Chara mutters… **Greetings. It’s me, Chara.**  
  
The ghost kid brightens. “Oh, hi! You know, it’s funny, but I don’t remember understanding sign language when I was alive.”  
  
 **My guess is it’s because Frisk’s soul is pushing your memory into reality. I’ve never met a soul remnant before. I think it’s because Frisk is really strong, like you said,** Chara explains through Frisk.  
  
“I miss you,” the ghost says. “We had fun together. Now I just drift in and out of consciousness. How many years has it been?”  
  
 **Not sure. At least nine. Other than Frisk, only one other human has fallen since then.**  
  
Frisk feels sad, thinking about what it must be like to wait endlessly in limbo, watching silently, unable to even speak to people like Chara can. _Ask if there’s anything we can do to help,_ they urge.   
  
Chara translates. The kid pauses, then says quietly, “If you make it to Asgore’s palace, and you defeat him, he’ll have the souls he’s collected so far in unbreakable containers. Please—free the souls. It’s the only way I’ll be reunited with the rest of me.”  
  
 **And then what will happen to you? asks** Chara.  
  
The ghost shrugs. “My soul will dissipate, I guess. And then I’ll go to whatever happens after you die. I mean, whatever it is, it’s got to be more interesting than this.”  
  
Chara’s presence in Frisk’s limbs recedes. Frisk takes back control and signs, **Well, I have to go now. I will try to do what you ask.**  
  
“Thanks,” the kid says, giving them a smile. “Bye, Chara. Bye, Frisk. Maybe I’ll see you in whatever comes next.”  
  
When they’ve gone ten paces from the clearing, there’s a rush of wind and a sound like a sigh. They look back, and the soul remnant is gone, leaving no trace.

 

 

Papyrus is there to meet them at the far end of Snowdin Town. When the fight begins and a terrible force drags them down, as if gravity itself is growing stronger, they remember what Sans said: _he’s not dangerous, even if he tries to be._  
  
They also remember that Papyrus wants to join the Royal Guard. They remember who caused the death of the fallen human whose ghost they just met, and the promise they made to free the human souls. They remember the promise they made to Chara, that they would kill Asgore and get to the surface, so that Chara wouldn’t have to.  
  
 _No,_ they tell Chara. _I’ll do it myself. I need to learn how to fight, remember?_   
  
They raise their weapon and prepare to strike.  
  
When Frisk takes one too many hits, they pass out. Instead of emerging at the nearest SAVE point, they wake up inside a mostly empty garage, next to a bowl of dog food, a note from Papyrus, and a gate with bars too wide apart to stop them. The display of reluctant mercy is touching, and when they return to fight Papyrus again, they stop just as he becomes too weak to fight back.  
  
 _You’re getting better,_ says Chara approvingly. _Now finish him off!_  
  
Frisk hesitates. _I don’t think he really understands that handing me off to Asgore means I’ll die._  
  
 _So? Look at all the EXP you’ll get if you kill him! Do you want to get stronger or not?_  
  
They shake their head. _Not if I don't have to. Not like this._   
  
They put down their weapon and step back, offering Papyrus a small smile.  
  
He laughs nervously, looking relieved. “Wow, for a second I thought you were actually going to do it!”

 

 

As far as Frisk is concerned, the Ultimate Friend Hangouts with the Great Papyrus are the best. Thing. Ever! Chara, on the other hand, complains the entire time about stupid merciful humans and their stupid friendships.   
  
_Aww,_ thinks Frisk playfully. _Aren’t I your friend too?_  
  
 _You feel the need to be friends with the disembodied voice inside your head. That’s kind of sad._ But despite their best efforts at staying sarcastic and aloof, Chara’s voice is happy and playful too.

 


	3. Crossing a Threshold

 

_So, RESET,_ Frisk thinks. _The orange soul mentioned that was some kind of ultimate last-resort power._  
  
It’s not as if Chara has an actual body of any kind, but something about their presence in Frisk’s mind suggests twiddling thumbs. _It’s hard. Not all mages can do it, or at least not the ones that fell down here. It’s hard to know for sure about some things that humans can do because all I know is from hanging out in the minds of the fallen humans, and none of them understand about being a mage until after they fall. And the stories the monsters tell about the war aren’t any help._   
  
_Is it just a question of power, or is it skill?_  
  
 _Not skill, says_ Chara. _I think it’s a combination of power and soul color. You’re red, that means determination, and you’ve got a lot of it to boot, so a RESET probably wouldn’t be that hard for you. Same with perseverance or patience, because that all comes from the ability to do things over and over if it means reaching a goal. Maybe if someone whose powers came from their sense of justice or integrity felt that there was a great wrong they had to right, they’d be able to RESET, but only if they were super duper powerful. And the two kids with kindness and bravery couldn’t RESET at all._  
  
That sort of makes sense to Frisk, but it all seems very abstract. _Is it like loading a SAVE? What does it actually do? When would you use it?_  
  
 _Only if absolutely everything went wrong,_ Chara answers. _Here, look—the first time you saw a SAVE point was just before you died in a car crash, right?_  
  
Frisk shudders. Even though they’ve died multiple times in the Underground, that first death was the worst because it happened so suddenly and out of the blue; there was no way to guess it was coming.  
  
 _Well, SAVE points show up just before an important choice in your life occurs. Choosing to step out in the road meant you were gonna die, so your soul gave you the chance to redo that choice. And a RESET will take you back to the most important choice of your life. And falling into Mount Ebott? It’s hands-down the most important choice you’ve ever made._  
  
They nod slowly. _So it’s a way to redo everything that’s happened so far._  
  
 _Yep._ Chara sighs softly. _Don’t do it. Unless you don’t have any other option. You don’t know how awful it is, going through the same things over and over again, not being able to stop them._    
  
Frisk would expect it to be awfully boring, mostly, but there’s an undercurrent to Chara’s voice that’s entirely different. It’s bitter and angry and full of hatred, and it feels like an oil slick underneath their tongue.  
  
But then it’s gone entirely, and Chara is pointing out the function of an echo flower in a perfectly normal voice. Frisk decides they were probably imagining it.  
  
Both Frisk and Chara are surprised to see Sans sitting in his sentry/hotdog station, because unless he somehow developed an ability to walk ten times faster than before, there’s no way he could have gotten from Snowdin to the entrance to Waterfall that fast. When he asks if they want to grab some food, they’re both suspicious, and Chara immediately recommends running in the opposite direction. But Frisk is still in charge, and their insatiable curiosity wins out. They follow.  
  
“I know a shortcut,” Sans says.  
  
When he heads in the direction of an apparently blank expanse of wall, they are understandably confused. They are only more confused when everything goes suddenly dark and there’s a sudden sense of nothingness—only to find themselves walking through the door to Grillby’s.  
  
 _Oh shit,_ breathes Chara.  
  
Frisk flinches. _Don’t swear,_ they insist.  
  
 _Don’t you understand? His “shortcut”—fuck, oh fuck—he’s manipulating the void/existence vectors—_  
  
Meanwhile, Sans is making himself comfortable at the bar. “Fries or burger?”  
  
Frisk’s mind goes blank. It takes them a moment to process what the question is actually asking. Um… **Burger,** they sign.  
  
“I’ll have a double order of burg,” he tells the flame monster behind the counter. Then he turns back to Frisk. “So, whaddaya think of my brother?”  
  
 _Say he’s cool! Say he’s cool! Don’t piss him off!_  
  
 **He’s cool,** Frisk answers. _Jeez, Chara, I would’ve said that anyways._  
  
“Of course he’s cool. You’d be cool too if you wore that outfit every day. He’d only take that thing off if he absolutely had to. At least he washes it. And, uh, by that I mean he wears it in the shower.”  
  
The food comes and he offers them ketchup. They shake their head. (Chara’s continuous panicked commentary inside their skull is killing any appetite they might have had.)  
  
Literally the entire bottle of ketchup somehow ends up on their food. They wonder if this is karma or something. For what, they’re not sure. Just… karma.  
  
Sans gives them a sideways look. “Anyways, cool or not, you’ve got to admit Papyrus tries hard. Like how he keeps trying to be part of the Royal Guard. One time he went to the house of the head of the Guard and begged her to let him be in it.” He laughs lightly. “Of course, she shut the door on him because it was midnight, but the next day she woke up and saw him still waiting there. Seeing his dedication, she decided to give him warrior training. It’s, uh, still a work in progress.”  
  
 _I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here but I can’t figure out what it is,_ mutters Chara.  
  
 _Maybe he just wants to talk about his brother. They seem close._  
  
 _You’re so naive, Frisk._  
  
Frisk frowns. _That’s mean._  
  
“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something,” says Sans—and there’s a hint of hollow echo to his voice that makes dread drip slowly into Frisk’s stomach. “Have you ever heard of a talking flower?”  
  
They gulp, thinking of Flowey. **Yes,** they sign slowly.  
  
“So you know all about it: the echo flower. Say something to ‘em, and they’ll repeat it back to you over and over. Papyrus told me something interesting the other day. Sometimes, when no one else is around, a flower appears and whispers things to him. Flattery… advice… encouragement…”  
  
They recall Flowey’s shrieked “YOU IDIOT!” and wonder if he has a good twin or something.  
  
 _You’re REALLY naive, aren’t you?_ says Chara. _Talk about ulterior motive!_  
  
 _But what kind of ulterior motive could Flowey have to be nice to Papyrus?_  
  
Chara's exasperation is silent, yet utterly palpable.  
  
“…predictions,” Sans finishes. “Weird, huh? Someone must be using an echo flower to play a trick on him.” His tone of voice makes it completely clear that he knows it’s not actually an echo flower.  
  
He gets up to leave, asks them to foot the bill (they flatly refuse, with a chorus of agreement from Chara), and disappears out the door. They figure he’s used another “shortcut,” because there aren’t footprints in the snow to indicate where he might have gone, and they use the tunnels to get to the other side of Snowdin and walk back to Waterfall.  
  
They are oddly pleased to find that Waterfall possesses actual waterfalls and is not a misnomer, the way many places on the surface are. They can see that the way the water is falling is disrupted right in the center of the rock face in a shape like the outline of a door, and even though Chara yells at them to stop being reckless and stupid, they can’t help but investigate.  
  
By the time they’ve pushed through the door, they’re soaking wet but exhilarated. Even so far from home, in this strange place, the excitement of discovering something new can still buoy them up. There’s even an old tutu lying in the corner.   
  
For some reason the sight of the tutu makes Chara send a pulse of melancholy through Frisk’s veins. It gets even stronger when they run a hand over the faintly glowing crystals embedded in the walls.  
  
 _I used to walk here all the time,_ they say quietly. _When I was feeling upset and I thought my family wouldn’t understand. The sound of the water rushing is nice. Drowns out your thoughts, kind of thing._  
  
Frisk blinks. _So you lived in the Underground, then? Sometimes the way you talk makes you sound like you were human._  
  
 _I’m not anything._  
  
 _You have to be something,_ Frisk argues, but they’re not responding.

 

  
  
They huddle in the reed bushes, too terrified to move, listening to Papyrus fail to dissuade Undyne—the head of the Royal Guard—from deciding to hunt them down and take their soul. They hear Papyrus walk away with his characteristically loud stamp, and they wait and wait…  
  
Nothing. They lift up a foot carefully and shift to the side.  
  
Undyne whirls around. They get a glimpse of red hair, dark armor camouflaged perfectly in the dim cavern, a face obscured by a jagged metal mask. She stretches out a gauntlet and the darkness coalesces in her hand, forming a glowing spear of electric blue. Frisk’s mouth opens in horror.  
  
But she looks around slowly, and apparently decides there’s nothing there, because she backs away into the shadows. The last thing to disappear is the gleam of her eye.  
  
Frisk lets out a ragged breath and slowly creeps out of the rushes.   
  
“Yo, did you see the way she was staring at you?!”  
  
The voice is high-pitched and excited. They turn around. The yellow dinosaur they passed earlier is saying something about attention and Undyne beating up bad guys, and then he hurries on ahead. They pause, intentionally putting some distance between them and him, and notice a SAVE point to their left. They set their shoulders, shaking off the dread that hangs over them, and reach for it with determination in their heart.

 

 

Papyrus calls just as they’ve finished a seed bridge, and the familiar voice is wonderful to hear. After that Frisk decides to call him every hour or so, just to cheer themselves up. Chara thinks that’s a ridiculous idea. Frisk ignores them. They’re not used to having friends and they’re not giving that up just because Chara says so!

 

 

When the spear slams into the boardwalk in front of them, spitting arcs of blue electricity, their arteries pulse with sickening fear. They hear the clank of armor, and they glance to the left just as the knight’s second spear enters their chest and shatters their soul.

 

 

They wake underneath the golden glow of the SAVE point. The suddenness of their death shakes them—they were _gone_ , no warning, just like that—but they refuse to give up.  
  
This time, when the spear thuds down before them, they’re running immediately. They note how the spear fizzles out of existence after a few moments, but unfortunately it doesn’t look like Undyne will be running out of them anytime soon. Finally, after the most gut-wrenchingly terrifying dash of their life, they’ve found a patch of reeds to dive into.   
  
There’s a muffled “ow.” They blink and realize that the monster kid is there too, but before they can ask any questions, there’s that awful metallic clanking and they freeze.  
  
Undyne moves cautiously through the reeds. Then, suddenly, the monster kid is lifted into the air. Frisk almost chokes.  
  
There’s a moment of palpable awkwardness, and then… the head of the Royal Guard gently sets down the monster and stomps angrily away.  
  
 _The derpy yellow dinosaur kid just saved your life,_ says Chara disbelievingly.

 

 

_Okay, so one of the Moldsmals is holding itself like it’s not gonna fight if you’re not gonna fight, but the other one is quivering in this really threatening manner. If that’s not suspicious, I don’t know what is._  
  
 _You’re suspicious of everything,_ counters Frisk.  
  
 _That’s ‘cause everything here is trying to kill us!_  
  
 _Not this guy! He just wants to have a good time!_ Frisk winks at the Moldsmal in an over-the-top flirty manner and does a little wiggle dance. The Moldsmal wriggles happily and wanders off. _See? Wasn’t that hard._  
  
 _I don’t trust this. It’s all going to blow up in your face, I know it is._  
  
Frisk ignores the warning and tries to give the other Moldsmal a nice hug. The jellylike monster quivers indignantly and ascends to its full height. Their mouth drops open as they stare at the towering creature.   
  
_I knew it! I fucking knew it!_ shrieks Chara. _It’s a Moldbygg! Put me in control, I’m gonna punch this thing!_

 

 

The streams in the marshes glow the same electric blue as Undyne’s spears. _Probably fashioned from the same water magic,_ Chara explains. _Oh, uh—don’t—don’t go over there._  
  
Frisk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the path they were about to turn onto. _Why not?_  
  
 _Just don’t, okay?_  
  
 _But what’s down there? It just looks like some reed bushes and mushrooms,_ they protest.  
  
A bolt of frustration seeps through them. It’s strange, but lately Chara’s emotions have been getting clearer and clearer. _I don’t want you to go down there, okay?!_ they say.  
  
Frisk considers listening, but it’s a lost cause. They’re curious about it now.  
  
When they step into the reeds and pull out a battered pair of ballet shoes, there’s a rustling sound. The wind sighs and loose grass blows into their face, making them raise a hand to cover their eyes…  
  
…when they open them again, a ghost is standing there.  
  
They have straggly blond hair and crystal-grey eyes, they’re suffused in a dark blue glow, and their expression is (pardon the pun) absolutely haunted.  
  
“Who’s there?” they whisper.  
  
This time there’s no waiting for permission. Frisk is immediately shoved to the side and Chara takes control, raising their hands. **Frisk and Chara,** they sign.  
  
The ghost nods slowly. Unlike the objects Frisk holds, their tutu and ballet shoes are pristine and lack dirt smudges entirely. The ghostly kid, however, is covered in tiny scratches that Frisk recognizes as the marks of forcing their way through a dense, razor-leafed forest. “Chara, are you helping Frisk the way you helped me?”  
  
 **Yes.**  
  
“So Frisk… fell as well.”  
  
Chara nods.  
  
The ghost crosses their arms. “You know, I only killed when it was clear that the monster would kill me otherwise. And I always tried the peaceful way first. If I died doing that, I would decide to return and fight for my life. But I always tried to do the right thing. Even when you told me otherwise, Chara. And then…”  
  
 **I know,** they answer.  
  
“You killed me,” they hiss.  
  
 **I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.**  
  
“How could you not know? You knew every part of my mind! You knew every part of my soul!”  
  
Chara’s hands are shaking. **I didn’t. I thought I did. I thought it would work the way determination does. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.**  
  
The ghost lunges forward, but their form begins to dissipate, so they pull back grudgingly, fists clenched. “You made me kill them!”  
  
 **It was only three monsters. They were trying to kill you. You were going to try to solve it without fighting, but if it didn’t work they were going to kill you. You kept doing that, you kept dying, so when we came across new monsters I took control and killed them first.**  
  
“You didn’t let them fight back! It was _wrong_! It was—I couldn’t load my SAVE because I’d lost my integrity! It’s _your fault!_ ”  
  
Tears are pouring down Chara’s—Frisk’s—face. **I didn’t know that would happen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.**  
  
The ghost lets out an anguished scream and—  
  
They’re gone.  
  
All at once, Chara lets go of Frisk’s body. They stumble back, dropping the ballet shoes. They raise a hand to the tear tracks on their cheeks, the remains of Chara’s all-consuming, awful guilt still coating their skin. Around them, all is still. The water makes no sound, not even the gentle tinkling it made before. Even the echo flowers are silent.  
  
 _Chara?_ they call tentatively. _Are you there?_  
  
There’s an answering mental pressure, but no words. They try not to focus too hard on the place where Chara rests in their mind, because when they do, they feel the beginnings of a deeper sorrow than they can ever imagine.  
  
 _Whatever happened with the dark blue soul, that’s in the past,_ Frisk thinks. _It was a mistake and you won’t make it again. I know, okay? You’re inside my head. I can tell when you’re telling the truth._  
  
There’s a soft sigh. _That’s not the first time I’ve done that, you know. I’m always getting people killed._  
  
 _You did something that stopped the other fallen humans from loading their SAVE?_  
  
 _No. Before that. Before this form. I’m the reason my brother is dead._  
  
 _I’m sure it wasn’t your fault._  
  
Chara gives a cynical laugh. _You’re too nice._  
  
Frisk shrugs. _I think being nice is just what you’re supposed to do when you’re friends with someone._  
  
 _We’re friends?_   
  
There’s a pathetic hopefulness to Chara’s tone of voice that reminds Frisk of themself. It’s not as if Frisk is used to anyone caring about them either. _Of course we are!_ they insist.  
  
Chara doesn’t respond out loud, but there’s a content glow in the back of Frisk’s mind, and they know who it came from.   
  
They smile a little and push themselves off the ground. They better get going; in the Underground they could be attacked at any time, and they hadn’t reached a SAVE point or healed themselves with monster food very recently. _I didn’t know you could just take control like that, without permission,_ they think, trying to make conversation.  
  
The glow of happiness dims a little. _I can’t always. I couldn’t do it with you at all until just now._  
  
Frisk considers that. _Has something changed?_  
  
 _Yeah. You… crossed a threshold._  
  
 _A threshold of what?_  
  
 _I don’t want to talk about it,_ says Chara, an edge to their voice. Frisk thinks it’s probably something important that they’re going to need to ask more about soon, but Chara seems upset, so they don’t push it.  
  


 


	4. For the Sake of the Dead

 

Onionsan happens.  
  
 _Oh my god,_ whispers Chara. _This stuff didn’t happen to any of the others. Why is it you? Why are you the unlucky one?_  
  
 _He’s not that bad,_ Frisk defends. _He didn’t even attack or anything! He’s just kind of…_  
  
 _Anime._  
  
Chara’s says “anime” like most people would say “murderer.” Frisk can’t really argue with that.  
  
By mutual agreement, they hurry away from Onionsan’s pool of water as fast as possible. An hour of walking through the humid Waterfall tunnels later, they reach an alcove with an old piano. Chara comments that it’s been there for a long, long time, and whenever a human falls down and passes it, it’s always kept tuned. _There’s a treasure hidden somewhere in this room,_ they inform Frisk. _It’s part of a memorial further down. Do you know how to play the piano?_  
  
 _A little. I'm not very good, though._  
  
Chara perks up with excitement. _Oh, that's okay, we can still find the treasure! None of the others did, and I never learned. My brother tried to teach me, but I thought it was a waste of time,_ they add, a little more subdued.  
  
 _Maybe if we get to the surface, I can teach you,_ Frisk offers.  
  
 _Maybe._  
  
Chara directs Frisk in bringing the statue an umbrella. _The memorial is built as a test, so that only someone with the compassion to think of shielding the statue from the water can hear the melody. Then, they have to pay enough attention to the melody to remember it and play it on the piano. If they’ve paid that much care and attention to the memorial, then they can access the treasure._  
  
They listen to the melancholy tune. It’s achingly familiar, but they don’t know from where. _What is it a memorial for?_  
  
 _The King and Queen’s son. The music box used to be his. He was killed by a human._  
  
Frisk considers the times that they’ve had to kill monsters. _Was it in self-defense?_  
  
 _No,_ says Chara bitterly, their presence in Frisk’s mind twisting with anger and sorrow. _I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t care about the treasure, let’s just GO!_  
  
The last word is shouted with such conviction that Frisk obeys unquestioningly, dropping the umbrella and dashing forward, the melody fading into the distance.

 

 

Barely an hour later, they’re running from Undyne again. _Why won’t she just leave me alone?_ they think desperately. They die twice when the maze of boardwalks leads them to a dead end and they can’t dodge her spears fast enough, but after memorizing where the bad routes are, they finally manage to outrun her.   
  
Or at least, they manage to convince themselves they outran her, just before she slices through the wood and sends them falling into blackness.

 

 

A fall from a great height… the feeling of being hunted, of needing to run away… eyes open briefly, seeing that they were lying on a patch of golden flowers… eyes closing again, savoring the dark, wishing it were permanent.  
  
“It sounds like it came from over here…”  
  
The voice is high-pitched, familiar. (Flowey!) (No, not Flowey.)  
  
“Oh! You’ve fallen down, haven’t you… are you okay?”  
  
Somewhere, a music box is playing. (Of course. It’s his song.) (Who?)  
  
“Here, get up.”  
  
They don’t want to, but they don’t want to disappoint the voice, either. They never wanted to disappoint anyone, honest, but somehow it keeps happening, doesn’t it? Slowly, they reach for the offered hand and push themselves to their feet. Still wobbling a bit, they keep their head down, not wanting to look their helper in the eye. They search for something to say.   
  
“Um, greetings.” Their voice is so soft that their helper has to lean in to hear it. “I’m Chara.”  
  
“Chara, huh? That’s a nice name. My name is…”  
  
But the dream is already fading, and when Frisk wakes up, they can’t remember what was in it at all.

 

 

The Mad Dummy leaves both of them shaken up rather badly—Frisk because they honestly had no idea the dummy in the Ruins had a ghost living in it, Chara because the thing just wouldn’t take damage no matter how hard they attacked—but hanging out with Napstablook is a good way to calm down from all those times they died. For some reason, Chara likes the self-deprecating ghost a lot more than anyone else they’ve met so far. They even insist on taking them up on the offer of lying down and feeling like garbage. When Frisk questions them on it, they say that Napstablook is “relatable.”  
  
After a few rousing games of Thundersnail, they say goodbye to their ghostly pal and wander over to the store nearby. When they get closer, they see that the monster behind the counter is a wiry old turtle. He seems friendly enough to Frisk, but Chara’s sharp intake of breath stops them.  
  
 _What’s wrong?_  
  
 _It’s Gerson. Used to be the Captain of the Guard. Killed the kid whose powers came from perseverance. But I guess he’s retired now? Anyways, you’re safe here—no one can attack you in a store._  
  
That logic doesn’t seem to add up. _Why can’t they?_  
  
 _Uh… ‘cause they just can’t? You can’t start a fight in a store. That’s just how the mechanics work._  
  
 _The mechanics of what?_  
  
 _Of this!_ Chara sounds annoyed, like they’re trying to explain algebra to a five-year-old. _Obviously it’s got rules. Like how there are only four options in a fight? FIGHT, ACT, ITEM, MERCY? It’s that kind of thing._  
  
Frisk can tell by their tone of voice that those four words are somehow special, but they really have no idea what Chara is talking about. They can also tell that this conversation isn’t going anywhere, so they instead of pushing they eye Gerson and consider if it's worth the risk. They decide to go for it—they don’t have any monster food on them, and they don’t want to be caught without if Undyne shows up again. And maybe they can get information on how to get past her.  
  
Gerson greets them cheerfully, and before they buy anything they make sure to ask about Asgore and Undyne… not that what they hear is particularly helpful. Something about his grin is very similar to the one Sans always has, so they’re 95% sure that he knows they’re a human and just isn’t saying anything.  
  
Something behind him catches their eye. They frown; that’s the same symbol that was on the door to the Ruins. They remember Chara getting upset about it for some reason they didn’t understand.  
  
Gerson follows their gaze. “Eh? You don’t know what that is? What are they teaching you kids in school these days… wa ha ha! That’s the Delta Rune, the emblem of our kingdom, the Kingdom of Monsters. It’s as I always say: Ol’ King Fluffybuns can’t name for beans.”  
  
 **But what does it mean?** they persist.  
  
“It predates written history. The actual meaning has been lost to time… all we know is that the triangles symbolize us monsters below, and the winged circle above symbolizes somethin’ else. Most people say it’s the ‘angel,’ from the prophecy.”  
  
They’re impressed. Prophecies are cool.   
  
_They’re not cool, they’re just stupid and they’re not real anyways._  
  
 _Well, I didn’t think monsters or souls were real before I fell down here, did I?_ replies Frisk. They ask Gerson, **What kind of prophecy?**  
  
“Oh yeah, the prophecy. Legend has it, an ‘angel’ who has seen the surface will descend from above and bring us freedom. Lately the people have been takin’ a bleaker outlook—callin’ that winged circle the Angel of Death. A harbinger of destruction, waiting to free us from this mortal realm.”  
  
Now they were really impressed. **What do YOU think it is?** they ask eagerly.  
  
“In my opinion…” Gerson’s smile becomes a little too knowing. He winks. “I jus’ think it looks neat! Wa ha ha!”  
  
 _Okay, now it’s just getting weird,_ Chara declares. _He’s being way too nice. He murdered the last kid who fell down here! I vote we run for it, ASAP._  
  
Before Frisk can argue with that, they hear a familiar clanking, echoing sound. Gerson hisses, “Quick, behind the counter!”  
  
 _No no no no nononononono…_ Frisk doesn’t hear a word that Gerson’s saying. An icy cold wreathes their fingers and toes; their mind is shot with terror. It’s Chara that forcibly takes over their muscles, vaults over the counter, curls into a ball, and squeezes into a narrow gap between stacks of merchandise. They let go of Frisk’s motor control all at once, exhausted from the effort, and recede to the back of their consciousness.  
  
“You heard about the human?”  
  
This is the first time they’ve heard Undyne’s voice. It’s loud and brash, like Papyrus’s, but less cheerful, weighed down by anger.  
  
“Course I did. Everyone likes to stop and talk with ol’ Gerson. Not a glimpse of ‘em around these parts, though.”  
  
“‘Cause the sad ghost over there with the headphones and the snail farm was saying something about a human.” They can’t see her face, but she sounds like she’s scowling. “Except then it said something about being unwanted and then it disappeared before I could ask it where the human went? Ghosts are WEIRD, man.”  
  
“Well, I’ve been hearin’ that the human’s just a little kid. Done less killin’ than the last one, for sure,” says Gerson amicably. “Sounds like maybe if they were jus’ left alone, they wouldn’t cause any harm. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Makes me think about smashing that human’s face into the ground,” Undyne growls.  
  
Tucked away in their hiding spot, Frisk squeezes their eyelids shut and hopes desperately that Gerson won’t change his mind about hiding them.  
  
“There’s a reason I retired from the Guard, an’ it wasn’t that my bones were gettin’ achey,” he says. “When I killed that human with the purple soul, they looked scared. Real scared.”  
  
 _He’s right. I remember,_ adds Chara darkly.  
  
“Good,” says Undyne, tone just as grim.  
  
Gerson shakes his head. “You don’t know what it was like. Afterwards I figured it might’ve been the wors’ thing I’ve ever done.”  
  
“Really? The WORST thing? After seeing all those piles of dust they left behind them?”  
  
“Well, I didn’t have a problem with takin’ ‘em out at the time,” he says. “But later I looked back on it and realized, I caught the kid without a weapon. Didn’t have a way to figh’ back, not even a shield to defend themselves. I figured that’s jus’ no right.”  
  
“I get your point,” Undyne concedes grudgingly. “But this human is INFURIATING! They keep on running away EVERY TIME! If they’d just turn around face me—they’d be TOAST.”  
  
 _Yeah, that’s why we’re running, because we don’t want our face smashed into the ground,_ snaps Chara.  
  
“Wa ha ha! I get your point too,” chuckles Gerson. “All I’m sayin’ is… give mercy a try once in a while. You might like it.”  
  
“As if!” scoffs Undyne. Her tone is boasting with a bitter edge, and it’s so similar to Chara’s that Frisk blinks in surprise. “There’s no room for mercy here. I’ve got to do this, for everyone living in the Underground, and also for—for the sake of the dead.”   
  
Her voice cracks slightly on the last bit, and that is not a mirror for Chara, but for Frisk. They remember the orange soul and they feel a flash of empathy: they, too, have made promises to ghosts.  
  


 

She leaves not long after that, and Frisk emerges cautiously from their hiding place. Gerson gives them a long look, presses a torn notebook into their hands, tells them gruffly that it’s free of charge and that they should have it anyway, and motions for them to get going. They don’t linger.  
  
Monsters appear and they die four times from cringing and hesitating when it comes to dealing a blow. They won’t let Chara take control to slay them, but they can’t bring themselves to do it on their own. Their mind is cluttered. The words they heard from Undyne mix with the words of their promises, to the orange soul and to Chara, that they would become strong and defeat Asgore and free the human souls, no matter what it takes. They won’t break their promises. But they can’t bring themselves to kill just yet, either.  
  
The monster kid finds them on a narrow, precarious bridge. When they hear the tell-tale pitter-patter of his stumbling feet they bite their lip and grimace before turning to face him; they can hear a faint whooshing of steam and grinding of cogs up ahead, and Chara says it’s the sound of Hotland. All they want is to escape the dampness and gloom of Waterfall.  
  
“Undyne says… uh… you’re a human,” the kid says awkwardly. “And…”  
  
He’s about to say something else, but there’s a clank and the bridge’s wooden slats shudder. The captain of the guard appears, armor dark and forbidding, and the monster kid turns in alarm. He stumbles backward—loses his balance—he’s dangling from the bridge by his teeth—“Help!”  
  
 _She’s distracted, run!_ orders Chara.  
  
Following Chara’s recommendation doesn't even occur to them. Frisk rushes forward, grips his shoulders, and _pulls_.

He squeaks in alarm, and the two of them end up sprawled on top of each other with a quiet "oomph." They glance at each other, and then at Undyne, who is hovering in indecision at the other side of the bridge, arm outstretched.   
  
The monster kid takes a deep breath. “Yo… the human is my friend… and if you wanna get at my friends, you’ll have to get through me first!”  
  
Frisk’s mouth opens in shock. Chara is speechless. Whatever they were expecting the little monster kid to utter, it wasn't that. They stare at him—he looks utterly terrified at the prospect of facing down the knight. Sure, they helped him up when the sensible thing would have been to run, but… he would really fight for them? Even though he could just walk off and not get hurt?  
  
They expect Undyne to rush forward and smack the kid out of her way, but she doesn’t. She stops. Her jagged-toothed helmet swivels between the human and the monster, and she shakes her head a little, as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing.  
  
And then she turns on her heel and marches away.  
  
They’re still tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but after a long moment they realize that nothing is going to happen. Eventually the monster kid relaxes too, and turns around, eyes wide and relieved. “Oh, wow, that was close.”  
  
Frisk nods fervently.   
  
The kid looks down and shuffles his feet. “So, uh, good luck, I guess,” he mumbles. “I should… I should be getting home now… my parents are probably really worried…”  
  
An ache starts in their chest as they think of their parents. How long have they been in this cavern? Are their parents worried about them? Will they be believed, if they return and claim they fell into a mountain filled with monsters? Will they return at all?  
  
Frisk offers the kid a tentative smile. **Thank you,** they sign, and make a shooing motion with their hands, the universal signal for “get going.”  
  
They watch as the monster kid disappears into the deep Waterfall shadows. Then they sigh, looking up at the vast darkness overhead—somewhere up there is the roof of the cave, and above that is the mountain, and above that is the Surface. But down here, with the mushrooms glowing faintly and the endless waterfalls and the threat of death lingering along every path, it’s hard to remember.  
  
 _You should get going too,_ Chara prods them. They nod, because what else can they do? And they head onward. 

 


	5. Before I Sleep

Undyne is waiting for them atop a tall spire of rock. Frisk is beginning to realize that there’s no way to back out now, that this time there’s nowhere to run to, and they’re so paralyzed by that knowledge that they barely register her monologue until she’s screaming at them to “FACE HER HEAD ON!” and a strange green aura shimmers around them.  
  
_A shield…?_ they think, examining the crackling green energy. It moves with their forearm and fans out in a rough circle before them.  
  
_…was she talking about *anime*?_ asks Chara incredulously.  
  
Frisk doesn’t have time to ask Chara what the heck they’re talking about because Undyne is already firing off the first of her spears. The next barrage comes from the side, and Frisk signs frantically **I don’t want to fight** just as they swing the shield around to block. Not fast enough—a spear tears through their shoulder. The pain is sharp and muscle-deep. A red bloom stains their sweater.  
  
_Fight back!_ shrieks Chara, as Undyne roars that she will not be prevented from seizing monsterkind’s hopes and dreams.  
  
**I don’t want to fight,** signs Frisk desperately.  
  
If anything, Undyne sneers harder. The spears come faster.  
  
**I don’t want to fight!**  
  
“I can feel everyone’s hearts beating as one,” says Undyne, readying her next volley. “Finally, sunlight is just within our reach.”  
  
**I just want to be friends,** they plead.  
  
Undyne flinches, her fierceness dropping away for a half second. When she fires, her movements are hesitant and the spears come slower. But then growls something angrily to herself, and when she attacks again she shows no mercy.  
  
They’re covered in cuts, out of ways to heal themselves, and drained of energy. When she puts a spear through their neck they can’t even bring themselves to be surprised.  
  
When they reemerge from that strange emptiness and find themselves in the cloying damp of Waterfall, there is a SAVE point hovering beside them and they’re immediately greeted by screeching. They clap their hands over their ears before they realize that it’s coming from inside their head.  
  
_What the fuck was that?_ yells Chara. _You let her slaughter you! You let her slaughter us! Did you forget there are two people in this body, huh? Huh?!_  
  
_You heard what she said to Gerson back at the store, she’s not evil. It’s like with Papyrus. He didn’t want to fight me at all by the end of it._  
  
_That’s because you fought Papyrus until he was too weak to go on! Here you just stood there and let her fire at you—how stupid ARE you?!_  
  
Frisk flinches. _But that’s Papyrus, not Undyne. The only time she backed off was when the monster kid stood up for me, because she didn’t want to hurt someone who was innocent. So if I prove I’m innocent, she should back off, right?_  
  
_She’s seen you dust monsters before, you IDIOT. She’ll never think you’re innocent now._  
  
They remember the way the dust clung to their clothes. They’d scraped and washed and rubbed at their sweater, but the silvery-white substance never fully came out. _I know. But I have to try. Determination, right?_  
  
Chara’s anger and apprehension taste bitter on Frisk’s tongue, but they stay grudgingly silent all the same.  
  
They plead and dodge and deflect and plead twice more and try to explain themselves, and still they end up with a spear piercing their stomach, shattering their spine and exiting the other side. There’s the pain, the crunch of the bones, the sickening way the muscle gives, and then they’re outside the arena, listening to the wind howl and shivering in the warmth-less light of the SAVE.  
  
_I have to keep trying,_ Frisk thinks. _I have to keep trying._  
  
**I don’t want to fight,** they sign. **I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to fight.**  
  
It’s not even a spear this time—they slip on a wet patch, fall, the concussion takes them out. Outside the arena again.  
  
_Ready to try it my way?_  
  
Frisk ignores them and marches forward.  
  
This time they begin with, **I heard you and Gerson talking.**  
  
“—defeat you and—” Undyne’s eye squints as she takes in your words. “The hell?”  
  
**I have promises to keep too,** they explain. **Please just let me pass.**  
  
“What, so you can kill more innocent monsters? I’ll kill you!” She spits at their feet, and the next spear she launches shears off a lock of their hair. They breathe faster, scared—they don’t want to die again, it hurts so bad.  
  
**I don’t want to fight,** they beg. **I just want to be friends.**  
  
That makes her scream in rage, and she fires with such speed that there is no possibility of shielding against it. At least they die fast.  
  
This time they take a moment to sit down, smoothing their shaking hands against their legs. Mist swirls around their feet, and despite the humidity, their breath is a visible plume of mist.  
  
They want to go to sleep and forget that this ever happened, but they know that even if they lay down and closed their eyes, sleep wouldn’t come. Despite the hours upon hours of trekking through the Underground, every time they load their SAVE they are no longer hungry or tired or wounded. Their mind is weary but their body is restless, and in this moment the inaccessibility of sleep feels like the worst punishment, that they have to be awake when all they want is to be unconscious for a few moments.  
  
_Is this what it’s like?_ Frisk wonders. _You’re just a free-floating mind that occasionally inhabits bodies, right? So is it like this all the time, when your mind gets tired and you don’t want to be feeling things anymore, but the body you’re in is awake, so you can’t rest?_  
  
_Ha! I’ve existed like this through so much time through all those loads and RESETs, and let me tell you, it gets a lot worse than that._  
  
Frisk presses their hands into the soft, muddy ground and pushes themselves into a standing position. Their gaze turns toward the entrance to the stony arena, and they just can’t bring themselves to walk forward. Instead, they start walking in the direction they came from. They stop at each echo flower they meet and listen to the voices, the mark of past passerby now gone. If they shut their eyes and listen hard enough they can pick up a faint susurration from every direction as every echo flower whispers in unison, as if the deserted pathways are full of ghostly travelers.  
  
They wonder if Undyne will never let them pass, if they’ll give up in that arena, and if so, if they’ll leave anything behind. They might leave a splinter of their self, like the other fallen humans, someday to be called forth by a living soul, but how likely is that to happen? The fallen humans’ souls are caged, unable to dissipate. Is their consciousness still there? Maybe it’s like that darkness between dying and loading a SAVE, or maybe it’s something else entirely, or maybe they’re just… not there, like sleeping without dreams. If Frisk’s soul is taken, it will be the seventh, and Asgore would use it to rise to the surface and enact revenge on humanity and free monsterkind. Will they still be there, watching from his eyes?  
  
They don’t often wish they could speak, but suddenly they wish they could say something aloud to an echo flower, so at least that one thing would still remain if they died.  
  
Then they turn around and head back to where Undyne is waiting. As they step forward, Chara starts asking frantic questions— _are you going to actually fight this time? should we go back and get more healing items? should we_ —but Frisk ignores them.  
  
“Took you long enough,” Undyne huffs, and launches into her bravado-filled speech.  
  
They dodge the first set of spears easily, and as she continues her boasting and showing off, they sign slowly and clearly, **I know you have promises to keep.**  
  
It catches her off guard for a moment, but she just scowls more fiercely and fights even harder.  
  
Another volley. A spear tip shears off part of Frisk’s sweater. Between onslaughts, they sign, **I have promises to keep too.**  
  
More dodging, and when they get the space, they look her in the eye. **I’m sorry.**  
  
And they fight back.  
  
It’s hard to get close enough to land a hit, and they’re not the fastest, but Undyne is shocked by the very idea that her target isn’t standing still and allowing themselves to be stabbed, so it’s more effective than they imagined. Still, they don’t last long, and their opponent is still barely scratched by the time the darkness swallows them again.  
  
Their SAVE burns brighter this time, stronger with the strength of their goal.  
  
_Okay, good,_ says Chara, sounding relieved. _Now we’re on the same page. We don’t have the best armor right now, but I think it’ll be better practice for later on, even if it’s harder right now, ‘kay?_  
  
The word “practice” curls around Frisk’s mind like poisonous smoke. It makes it sound as if all of this is just a game. They know what was really meant by it, they know that after spending god knows how long trapped inside the other fallen humans Chara has needed to think in strategic and utilitarian terms for the sake of survival, but knowing that doesn’t make Frisk feel better.  
  
When they walk into the arena and the green shield shimmers around them, Chara slips into place, and suddenly their breath catches, their body feels weightless, and—  
  
—they are in unison.  
  
Frisk weaves through the onslaughts and deflects the spears, and when it comes time to attack, Chara strikes effortlessly. Before, it was like gears grinding together at the wrong moment, jarring and shaking, and now there is no need to shift from one of them to the other. One of them rests while the other is in action, but both of them are always in touch with their senses, both of them have their feet on the cold wet ground, both of them have a heart pounding in their chests, both of them have determination pulsing in their veins.  
  
For all their work, they die together twenty-seven times. Undyne never falters.  
  
On the twenty-eighth try, something happens.  
  
They get her in the arm, in the gap between armored plates. She growls and clutches it briefly, before shaking her head and striding forward. This time, the spears are slower. It’s easier to dodge.  
  
They’re hanging on to life by the very last string, so it isn’t long before they return to blackness, but they hold on to that moment, turning it over in their thoughts.  
  
The twenty-ninth try. They get to the faltering point again. A little further. They die.  
  
The thirtieth try. Even farther. The spears slow, Undyne winces as she steps forward. Frisk loads their SAVE.  
  
Thirty-one. Farther, farther—once they achieve the upper hand, everything seems to fall into place, and they’ll take a few spears and die a few times but it does not dispel the knowledge that _they are almost there._  
  
Thirty-two.  
  
Thirty-three.  
  
_It’s odd that her armor doesn’t give her any defense,_ says Chara between blows.  
  
_What?_ thinks Frisk, concentrating too hard to listen properly.  
  
_7 ATK, 0 DEF. We’ve been avoiding the chest because the armor is heavy there, but I don’t think it’s any match against your determination._  
  
Frisk doesn’t understand where Chara is pulling these numbers from or what exactly they’re supposed to measure, but there’s enough trust singing through their mental bond that they don’t question the advice.  
  
Thirty-four.  
  
Thirty-five.  
  
_Smells like sushi,_ snickers Chara, and Frisk frowns, not finding the situation very funny at all. The disconnect throws them off, and they die for the thirty-sixth time.  
  
Thirty-seven.  
  
Thirty-eight.  
  
Thirty-nine.  
  
The wind howls. It sounds as if the cavern itself is in pain.  
  
Forty.  
  
Forty-one.  
  
Water rushes around them. Pollen drifts past, yellow, shedding faint light.  
  
Forty-two.  
  
The spears come faster and faster. The electric blue magic turns golden with Undyne’s fury and pain.  
  
Forty-three.  
  
“I will _NOT_ be defeated,” she spits, and that’s when their attack flies true.  
  
Her eyes go wide and she looks down at herself in apparent surprise. “So,” she says softly, as if speaking to herself. “You were stronger than I thought.”  
  
A long silence, like taking a breath. It seems as if the waterfalls themselves have gone quiet. Her eyes are closed, now, and she holds herself still, in meditation.  
  
And then—  
  
“ _No_ ,” she says, and when she looks up her eye is dark, deep, the color of the caverns, of the Underground. “ _I won’t die.”_  
  
Her expression is like glancing into a mirror. Frisk is suddenly reminded of a music box and a fountain and a melody playing into the empty night, and Chara’s sorrow is abrupt and without explanation. “Alphys, Asgore, Papyrus… everyone is counting on me to protect them,” says Undyne. “Human. In the name of everybody’s hopes and dreams, I WILL DEFEAT YOU!”  
  
She looks determined.  
  
They block the spears numbly, on automatic, as she shouts, “Is that all you’ve got?!” and presses her attack more fiercely. “Pathetic! You’re going to have to try harder than that.”  
  
Her whole body is wavering, dust trailing in her footsteps, her existence unraveling with every moment, but she smiles as if nothing is wrong.  
  
They can’t bring themselves to attack in return, only to dodge and defend with the shield she gave them. Her body is losing its shape. “Had enough yet?” she challenges. She fires off more spears, but they’re slower and slower, crackling into nonexistence before they can come close. “See…” And now she can barely stand, let alone speak. “See how determined monsters can be?”  
  
Frisk knows that if Chara had a body they would be in tears, so Frisk steps back when Chara takes control and delivers the final blow, the words _END IT END IT NOW_ echoing through their skull. It works—there is only dust where Undyne used to be—but then—  
  
Somehow her form is still there, barely held together, and she’s saying something indistinctly that sounds like: “Alphys… this is what I was afraid of…” And Frisk doesn’t know how, but her shape resolves itself until there is barely a waver in her appearance.  
  
Her eyes are emptily white. “ _I won’t die_ ,” she hisses. “ _I WON’T DIE_.”  
  
Chara is telling Frisk to look away, that they won’t like what happens next, but they refuse. Undyne melts and every second of it is burned into their sight, and they are so, so thankful when she finally scatters into dust.  
  
Darkness remains.  
  



End file.
